


Stolen

by bellap74



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-17
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellap74/pseuds/bellap74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yassen's way of tackling the stresses and scars of conflict is to face them head on - and replace them with pleasure.</p><p>Set in the Alex Rider universe where he is a legal, consenting adult, though this may hint faintly at dubcon in places.<br/>Written for the Kink Bingo prompt - breathplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen

Alex slumps the moment he steps inside the apartment, lets Yassen’s grip on him be the steadying force and waits to be guided to a chair. It doesn’t happen that way though, first the lights come on, burning bright in the descending dusk and he blinks repeatedly before squeezing his eyes shut tight - then firm hands prop him against the closed door.

“Stand there,” Yassen instructs and it _is_ an order but a careful one, Alex nods but immediately feels the bruising around his neck and stops. He winces then swallows carefully as he feels fingertips on his tender skin. “I’m not happy about this,” Yassen tells him in a low whisper and Alex is so damn glad they’re on the same side right now, “they will pay for-.”

Yassen’s words halt as Alex pulls at his fingers, tries to move them away, “I can’t - don’t...”

“What?”

“I can’t breathe.” Alex gasps and he knows that it sounds mad, of course he can - he has air aplenty and Yassen’s touch is not constricting or heavy but it’s only a few hours since the world turned hazy charcoal and everything slowed to a whoosh in his ears. He swallows hard and thick and tries for a smirk, something light that won’t betray the fear that still tangles in his gut.

 

Yassen’s eyes flick up to meet his own and there’s concern in them for a fleeting moment before they harden, “You must not let this scar you, you can’t go out there _weak_ because of this.”

“I’m not - I-.” Alex closes his eyes and feels hot wetness threatening to spill from them. “He almost _killed_ me, I thought he was going to fucking _kill_ me,“ he says hoarsely and lets his head fall. His chest is tight now with suppressed emotion and he daren’t breathe for fear of revealing himself; then Yassen touches him and he simply breaks, can’t help but crumble.

The fingers on his chin become strong arms around him, pulling him in just as they had in the grotty room where he’d been found. This time they guide him not through a broken door and out onto a fire escape but into the bathroom, another safe space and he’s stripped carefully as sparsely worded reassurances fill his ears.

“You can not go out there fearful,” Yassen insists, “ever. You won’t be safe, I can’t let you.”

“I nearly fucking died,” Alex objects and still the words hurt to force out.

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” he shakes his head slowly and feels his chest constrict again.

 

“You’re strong - understand?” Yassen demands and mutters something under his breath, something that is lost as the shower hisses into life. “If you are afraid, they win; be a man now not a coward.”

Alex glares at him, eyes wide and all of the day’s rage and injustice rises, “Fuck you! “ He wants to scream but he can’t get the sounds out of his bruised throat, he doesn’t want to cry but angry tears flow anyway. “I’m not a coward,” he insists trying to wipe them away but Yassen grabs him and pulls him under the shower spray so that they are hidden beneath even hotter water.

“No, you’re not.”

 

The shower runs soothingly over Alex’s skin, warming and grounding him again with its heavy rhythm against his back. Yassen steps back from the spray and pulls off his own dampened clothes and the sight of him naked is another comfort, the muscular strength of him evident and promising safety. Alex yields to the body pressed against him as he’s joined beneath the pounding water and again he’s reminded of why this works, the adrenaline surging around his body suddenly directed towards physical release. “Death and sex,” Yassen had told him early on, “are the things that makes us feel most alive.”

“Wipe out the horror with a hard fuck?” Alex had teased with naive confidence and Yassen had nodded, told him there was no greater way to reprogramme than sex.

Alex had assumed that he was lying, of course, saying whatever he thought necessary to get him into bed but now he knew better. He’d seen the way his tender pressure against a bullet wound added another dimension to Yassen’s orgasm, muted the effects of combat so much more quickly and safely than the Russian’s old standby of vodka or rum. He’d surrendered willingly his own nightmares of blades once Yassen had sensitised a knife wound in his thigh, teased the skin with his tongue and traced it frustratingly slowly with a blade of his own; sucking Alex off as metal caressed the wound. Somehow in this fucked-up existence where they always had to pull themselves back from too much tenderness, from becoming too bare, the pure release of orgasm suppressed the trauma of the injury and reprogrammed those fearful thoughts.

“Kink or phobia - your choice,” Yassen had laughed darkly.

 

Now Alex lets his head fall back slowly against the white tiles, feels the pull of bruising but knows he needs to let the water wash him clean. Yassen supports him firmly, a knee between Alex’s thighs and an arm around his waist, the water runs quickly in contrast to the fingers Yassen guides through Alex’s hair. “You’re alive,” he says and Alex knows it’s a statement for both of them.

“Yeah.”

Yassen lowers his head and presses a kiss to Alex’s lips, slow but firm, and then another and another. The pace quickens and Alex feels the breath catch in his chest again but this time it escapes as a sigh and his chest feels looser, lighter. His hands move to Yassen’s hips and pull at him, dragging him into a space that isn’t there, wanting to be crushed and surrounded. In response the hand Yassen has in Alex’s hair moves down to his arse and he grips him tight, almost lifting him. It feels secure and Alex has no idea how this is going to be made right but he knows it will be, knows that until they wipe the slate of today clean with pleasure, Yassen will be taut with guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alex says, mouth moving against ginger stubble. “You couldn’t have -,” he stops as he feels the hold on him tighten further and then the glide of skin upon skin as Yassen moves his legs to press in differently. His cock is now hard against Alex’s own and the pressure is thrilling. “You came for me,” Alex insists.

The serious face hanging over him breaks slightly and Yassen snorts, a small smile forcing it’s way onto his face as he meets Alex’s eyes, “I will always come for you.”

“Good,” Alex nods and he manages a smile too but it freezes as Yassen’s grip changes; one strong hand moving to wrap around Alex’s cock and the other wrapping around his throat. He knows his eyes have gone wide and he tries to suppress his exclamation as he stares into those calm blue ones but still he can’t stop it escaping. “No!”

 

Yassen’s face resets to neutral and he holds Alex’s gaze; leaning his weight a little more forward but not changing his hold, “Trust me?”

“Sore,” Alex mutters closing his eyes. He wants to say that he’s scared, that’s it’s too much but equally he knows that Yassen can heal him and he doesn’t want nights of unfolding nightmares or the thought of a hand upon his neck paralysing him.

“Trust me?” Yassen repeats slowly.

Alex nods, “ _Only_ you.”

Hardly aware of the water now, Alex keeps himself focused on those blue eyes and lets the rest happen; trusts the only man he can, to mend him again. The fingers on his throat stroke up and down in the same rhythm as those on his cock but the grip here is lighter, his breath comes in easily as he gasps sharply at the pleasure uncoiling but still he waits for the pain, the panic. Wanting to come now, feeling like the tension in his body has been building all day not through fear but from a need to empty himself over Yassen’s fist or his own.

 

Alex’s cock throbs and Yassen grips him, strokes him hard and fast for a brief moment and squeezes his neck back against the tile, “No! Shit - I -.”

“Shhh,” Yassen soothes and slows his movements again, makes his touch featherlight in both places, leaving Alex confused by his need for more.

“Fuck. Go slow, OK?”

Shaking his head, Yassen smiles slowly then leans in to kiss Alex again; a short, deep kiss that he tugs away from with a low growl, “Trust me.”

“I do,” Alex pants, heart racing and his head a mess of emotions. “But it’s - I don’t want the...”

“What?” Yassen takes his hand from Alex’s neck and rests it on his shoulder. “What is your fear?”

Alex swallows hard and doesn’t let himself hesitate, “It all went black, I couldn’t - everything went black and I was falling.”

“That’s because he was killing you,” Yassen says honestly and Alex nods at the unpulled punch. “You were losing consciousness and you couldn’t fight.”

“No.”

“But you can fight me,” he grins and shakes Alex’s shoulder, “I won’t let you black-out.”

“No,” Alex repeats and lays his hand over the one on his shoulder, draws it up onto his neck and presses it in carefully. “I trust you.”

“You should,” Yassen says and moves to breathe heavily against Alex’s ear. “Because even in the dark, I’m _always_ with you .” With these words comes new pressure against Alex’s windpipe, it’s sore but not choking; slow rather than sudden. He still wants to fight, there’s too much instinct there but Yassen kisses him, pushes his tongue into Alex’s mouth and tightens the pressure on his throat - then within seconds withdraws both. Kisses him softly again and then repeats - tongue swirling, throat squeezed - a little longer this time and then release. A fist has formed around Alex’s cock again and it too strokes to the rhythm, frantic during the suffocating kiss then frozen upon withdrawal.

The pressure builds throughout Alex’s body and he feels a different kind of dizzy, light-headed from the constriction but high on the insistent throb that consumes him entirely. He’s not sure if he’s holding his breath or if it’s being stolen now, the burn of his throat matches the heat of his entire body and the exploding flush in his groin. His chest is fit to burst but so is his cock, pleasure drowning panic as his head whirls and spins with conflicting needs and all he can do is give himself up to it - give himself fully in trust to Yassen.

“Fuck!” Yassen grunts in his ear, “You’re so strong, you’re so alive.”

Alex wants to answer him but the tongue fills his mouth again and he can’t get air let alone words, his eyes are closed and the darkness seems to darken but suddenly something flips in his gut and his cock thickens as pleasure zips along it. His knees go and light prickles the darkness like glitter on black, he feels the orgasm hit and he wants to roar - take a deep breath and suddenly he can, air comes in hot and heavy and he comes panting hard. It feels like his body is one beating heart, his chest hammers and his breaths are frantic and he comes and comes as his head spins.

 

Yassen supports him as he slowly slides down the tiled wall and then rests a hand on Alex’s head, “OK?”

“...Fuck...uhhh,” Alex coughs and then manages a low laugh, “Yeah.”

Yassen laughs too and it’s unguarded, Alex can tell the Russian’s guilt is passing and that he’s moving into acceptance; relieved that they’re both safe and letting everything else go until an opportunity for revenge is presented . Alex takes the offered hand and allows himself to be pulled upright into a smug kiss and strong arms that go only to his waist now.

“So,” he asks, stretching his neck from side to side tentatively, “how did you learn to do that?”

“Something I picked up,” Yassen shrugs, rocking himself firmly against Alex’s thigh.

“Like me, you mean?”

Yassen pauses and Alex sees a rare twinkle in his eye as he grins slowly and pulls Alex with him out of the shower, “No, you’re not something I just picked up, Alex.”

“No?”

“No,” Yassen pulls him through to the bedroom and pushes him down onto the bed. “You’re something I can’t put down.”


End file.
